


Witches, Wizards, and Anything That Moves

by Astrangefan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Divorce, Happy Ending, Online Dating, Self-Acceptance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:00:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29078247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrangefan/pseuds/Astrangefan
Summary: Hermione Weasley is a BAMF lawyer who wins the hard cases, but her personal life is a mess. When Ron drops a bomb on her she has to figure out how to navigate her life and relationships going forward.Thanks to canttouchthis for her wonderful alpha and beta work on this! It's a treat to work with her.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42
Collections: A Devious & Diverse New Year





	Witches, Wizards, and Anything That Moves

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [ADeviousDiverseNewYear](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ADeviousDiverseNewYear) collection. 



> **Prompt:** After Divorce, Self Acceptance
> 
> Disclaimers: I do not anything remotely Harry Potter.   
> My legal expertise is entirely dependent on what I've seen on Law & Order and LA Law. The legal references are not part of the plot, but purely to link the story together.   
> Readers who happen to be named Heather - don't come at me: it was the #10 on the Baby Girl Names List of 1981

“We will retire and discuss.” Kingsley Shacklebolt stood up and, with the rest of the Wizengamot, left the courtroom. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she straightened her papers and packed up her briefcase. She was fairly confident she would win this case; the evidence was airtight, the witnesses were reliable, and the solicitor for the defendant was incompetent. 

“Congrats, Hermione, I think you’ve got this.” Harry walked up to the table and gave her a thumb’s up. 

“Thanks, Harry. I feel pretty good about this one.” 

“I have every faith in you, and the system. Your record is outstanding in this court. Keep it up!” He stood in front of the table and reached across to pat her on the shoulder. “Will we see you and Ron at dinner this weekend?” 

“As far as I know. We both plan on being there.” It was Molly’s birthday and everyone was expected to show up and pay homage to the matriarch of the Weasley tribe. 

“Great! Well, I’ll see you then.” Harry left, meeting up with another Auror on the way out.

Hermione watched him leave. _Well, at least one person has confidence in my abilities._ She grabbed her things and headed out of the room. Once in the hallway, she was surrounded by the press. 

“Mrs. Weasley! Over here! What do you think the verdict is going to be? Do you think you’ll win? Was the evidence enough to convict?”

Hermione plowed through the crowds until she reached the lifts. She pressed a button and turned towards the throng.

“I am confident the judicial process and the Wizengamot’s wisdom will come to the same conclusion that I have. I have no further comment.” Having timed it perfectly, she walked into the lift and the doors shut on all of the inquirers. She heaved a sigh of relief and pressed the button for the atrium. _Ugh! The press and their lack of boundaries!_

The lift doors opened onto a blessedly quiet scene. People were scurrying to and fro, messages were flying through the air and an occasional howler could be heard accosting some poor soul. Hermione headed to the floos, grabbing a handful of soot but before she could say “Evermonde and Goldstein,” someone jumped in with her.

“I assume you’re going back to the office to wait for the verdict?” Draco Malfoy stood next to her as she finished the directive. They vanished in a puff.

They stepped into the floo and Hermione responded, “Where else would I go? I need to prep, in case we don’t get a guilty verdict.” She walked past the reception desk, ignoring Angelina’s attempts to stop her. 

“Hermione, wait! Don’t...” 

“Later Angelina, I need a moment.” She opened the door to her office and stopped in her tracks, Draco almost bumping into her from behind.

“What the hell? Ron? What are you doing here? Is something wrong at the Burrow?” She slowly put down her purse and briefcase. 

Draco whispered in her ear, “We’ll talk later,” before he backed out of the doorway, closing the door behind him. She barely acknowledged his exit before she walked towards Ron.

**Three days ago**

Ron Weasley had not aged well. He had gone into Auror training with Harry after the war ended, but finding himself in one harrowing situation too many he called it quits and went to work for George at the Joke Shop. With the decidedly more relaxed atmosphere, he was able to drown his sorrows in his favorite libation, firewhiskey. After two drinks, he was fun to be around; after three, he could sell a package of Weasleys’ Wildfire Whiz-Bangs to a dog kennel. As long as he kept to that limit, all was well. 

He and Hermione decided not to waste any time and were married immediately following her 8th year at Hogwarts. He hated that she lived at the castle, always citing the destruction and damage and fear for her safety as his reasons, but in reality he was jealous. He never wanted to go back himself, and he knew he couldn’t keep Hermione from going, but deep down he felt like she picked Hogwarts over him.When she visited the Burrow on weekends, he'd always take the opportunity to criticize the school in some way, nearly always leading to some confrontation that made the entire household uncomfortable. He knew he wasn’t going to win, but he felt if he didn’t bring it up all the time, she would end up getting a job as a professor there and she would never leave.

After her graduation, Hermione secured a position at the law firm of Evermonde and Goldstein, a longstanding enterprise of national and international reputation. They were employed by the Ministry and were responsible for bringing white collar crime to its knees and held a key role in emptying the vaults of the crime rings by launching civil suit after civil suit. She single handedly bankrupted about a third of the Sacred 28 who were also Death Eaters, and financially crippled even more. Hermione began her career there as an investigator, but her gift for debate along with her encyclopedic knowledge of the legal system soon propelled her up the ladder. Eventually, when both partners decided to retire to the greener pastures they left the firm for her to manage. Although relegated to a more managerial role, she would always take a case if it piqued her interest. 

Her reputation was spotless. The press loved her, little girls wanted to be her, and she felt she had finally achieved what she always wanted: her complete inclusion into the wizarding world. No longer noted for her intelligence, despite being Muggleborn, she was accepted on the merits of her talent alone. 

Hermione’s life was perfect...on the outside. While she was the epitome of self-assurance and authority at work and in the courtroom. She couldn’t bring that same self-assurance to her marriage, though. It should have been simple. After all she had known Ron since she was 11, and she had spent summers at the Burrow living among all the Weasleys. But Ron expected their marriage to be like Molly and Arthur’s; Hermione would stay home, have kids and cook 24/7. Whereas, she had thought they would advance their careers, have a couple of children, eventually, and live a well-organized life in London. They were both wrong. 

She and Ron were married at the Burrow and on their wedding night he drank so much, his brothers carried him up to his childhood bedroom. So Hermione spent her wedding night, not in the lovely bed and breakfast on the honeymoon she had so meticulously planned out, but sitting in a rocking chair periodically _Scourgifying_ Ron, his bed and the floor. 

Of course, he apologized profusely and promised it would never happen again. Their honeymoon passed without incident and they came back to wizarding London with bright futures and a new-found passion for each other. Their first year was idyllic. Ron was working to become an Auror and Hermione was gaining ground with the law firm. But there were signs that it wouldn’t last forever. One day, Ron came home at noon and owled Hermione that he had quit. In spite of her reservations, she was supportive and accepted his decision.

Hermione, however, still worked long hours, continuously trying to prove herself worthy and Ron, never having to worry about his standing as a Pure-blood, continued to barely keep himself afloat. He couldn’t understand why Hermione didn’t want to start a family right away. She tread a thin line between trying to explain how important it was for her to achieve her career goals and not making it sound like they were more important than he was. But as diplomatic as she tried to be, Ron never believed her. 

Firewiskey became his companion on the nights she was out until 10 or 11 pm. Many times she would walk in the door to find the bottle of Ogden’s ¾ empty and lying on the floor on its side where he had dropped it. Sometimes it was by his chair in their living room, sometimes it was on his side of the bed, once she even found it next to the toilet. When she confronted him about it, he would either play it down and say he could control it and stop anytime or he would blame her for not being there to cater to him. 

After several nights of floo-calling George to come and take him to the shop so he could sleep it off, Hermione had finally had enough. She gave him the ultimatum so many spouses have over the centuries - get clean or get out. Ron sputtered and complained and moaned about how she didn’t really love him and how she wished he was Harry. He told her he knew she and Harry had sex after he had left them, and he knew she wasn’t a virign on their wedding night and that she was a cold, frigid woman who didn’t care who she hurt on her way to the top. But, with George’s help and insistence, he did check into a clinic for 28 days. 

Once he came back home, he stayed sober. He went to meetings, read books, drank liters of coffee and managed to pull himself back from the brink. Hermione’s workload started to lighten and she was spending more time at home and trying to make a concerted effort to get their marriage back on track. It was if their roles had switched. Ron was the one now gone most evenings at meetings, in addition to working at the Joke Shop. Hermione found herself often sitting at a dinner table with cold food, waiting for him to appear. The first time she complained about it, he shot back at her with “Well, you want me to stay sober, don’t you?” The next time she mentioned that she would be fine if he just sent a patronus or an owl he said, “You know I didn’t expect you to tell me every second of every one of your late nights where you were, did I?” When she told him about a case she had won and he just grunted and said something about waiting until he saw the money in their bank account before he believed it, she backed away and retreated to their study, completely deflated. 

Then three days ago, when he did come home for dinner, nothing was ready. He found her in the study, asleep on a pile of books and papers and with a sigh, walked over to her and roughly shook her awake.

“Hey, Hermione. Wake up.” She lifted her head and looked at him blearily. 

“Uh, what….what time is it?” She wiped the drool off her chin and rubbed her eyes.

“Well after 7. Where’s dinner? I’m hungry.” He stood back and crossed his arms impatiently.

“Dinner? I didn’t think you were going to be home until later. I got wrapped up in this case.” She started to get up and move around the desk. When she tried to move past him, he didn’t budge.

“Ron? Can I get past you, please?” He just looked at her and smirked.

“What’s this? You always complain about me not being home and now I’m here and you don’t seem to care. I should have known it was too good to be true.” He threw his hands up in the air and turned his back to her and stormed out.

“Ron, wait… please you need to understand...this case, it’s really tricky and I’m up against a deadline….” Her voice petered out when he spun around and the full force of his fury hit her.

“I’m supposed to understand? I’m supposed to understand? That’s all I’ve been doing for the last seven years. Understanding. Understanding your need to finish school. Understanding your desire to work at a career that might put you in harm’s way. Understanding your need to wait to start a family. You want to know why I became an alcoholic? You’re the reason, Hermione. You and you alone.” 

“All I asked for was a little support.” 

“Support? You’re supposed to get that at work, remember? That’s why you have receptionists and paralegals and secretaries and whatever else you have in that ridiculous firm of yours. I should be able to come home and have my wife and my dinner and enjoy my evening. I shouldn’t have to support you.” Ron’s eyes flashed with anger. Hermione knew at that moment that their marriage was over. But that wasn’t the end of it.

“I’ve been watching you, Hermione. You have this air of superiority about you, but I know it’s a bluff, you’re a big fake. Oh, yeah, I know. You don’t think I see you, but I do. You’re so worried about being found out that in reality you’re not this perfect paragon, you would do just about anything to keep up the front. My sponsor says that you have imposter syndrome. You are convinced that whatever you do, it won’t be enough. You trapped me into marrying you so you could be part of the Pure-blood world; you forced me to quit Auror training because you were worried if I got hurt you would be back out on your ass, eking it out like a Muggle. You won’t have children because it would poke a hole in your bubble of professional success and if that happened, everything would blow up in your face. Don’t forget, I’ve known you, Hermione, since you were 11.” 

Hermione couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Where did all this vitriol come from? “Is that what you really think? That everything I did for us was really an ulterior motive? Part of some grand plan to insinuate my way into wizarding society? I have spent my adult life trying to make the bad guys who wanted to kill us pay and I think I’ve been pretty successful. I didn’t need you to become successful, I wanted you for you. The boy I have known since I was 11, my first friend.” She wiped her eyes and continued. “But you’re not the same person. Yes, you’re sober, and I’m very happy for you, but you’ve changed.”

Ron was incensed. “You know I should thank you. Your incessant nagging about me getting sober accomplished one thing. I don’t love you. I don’t know if I ever really did love you. I think I drank because deep down I knew that was the case and I didn’t want to hurt you. I was so caught up with trying to make you happy that I forgot about me. So I drank. And you never understood why and I never understood why, until now. Well, I’m telling you now. I don’t love you and I don’t want to be with you anymore.” 

Hemione was stunned. That was not something she thought she would ever hear. Her heart started racing and she wished she had her time-turner from third year. Then she could go back and fix this. She took a deep breath. _I am not going to fall apart._

“Ron, please. I know we’ve had some struggles, but surely the good outweighs the bad. Every couple does. That doesn’t mean that we don’t love each other. We just need some time. To be rational and tackle this head on. Isn’t that the first step - acknowledging the problem?”

“No, actually, Hermione, it’s not the first step. The first step is accepting that you are powerless; the 2nd step is there is a Power greater than ourselves that can stop the insanity and the 3rd is turning our lives over to the Power. We’re way past that. I’m learning to be brutally honest with myself and everyone else. Including you. I. Don’t. Love. You. And the sooner you realize that, the sooner we can move on with our lives. I’m sorry, but I won’t be part of your ‘perfect’ life. You’ll be hearing from me.” By this time, Ron was standing at the floo and with one last look at Hermione, he stepped in and all she saw was green flames. 

__

Since that night, Ron had not come back home but Hermione figured he was staying at George’s. 

“Ron, what’s going on?” Hermione stepped behind her desk and waited for an answer. 

“Uh, here. This is for you.” He handed her a thick manilla envelope with her name on it. 

She took the envelope from him and placed it on her desk. “What is it?” 

“Just open it.” 

She turned it over and broke the seal. Pulling out the entire document, she looked at the first page. 

_Petition for Divorce_

_Ronald B. Weasley_

_From_

_Hermione G. Weasley_

She dropped the papers on the desk like they burned her. After the night he walked out, she knew something was coming, but divorce papers? This seemed a little extreme. 

“What...?” She sat down in shock.

“I waited until I knew you were done with your case.” Ron was so smug, as if he expected her to thank him for being so thoughtful. “You’re welcome.” He turned and walked towards the door. 

“Hermione?” Angelina stood just outside her door. When she received no answer, she pushed the door open and walked over to her.

“Hermione. Are you alright? What did Ron want?” Hermione just sat at her desk, staring at the divorce papers. Angelina glanced at the papers. “Petition for... Oh, Hermione.” Angelina went back to the door and shut it quietly. She went over to a set of bookshelves, waved her wand and transfigured a copy of _Civil Procedure_ into a cup of Earl Grey. She set it on the desk and tapped Hermione on the shoulder. When she got no reaction, she knelt down next to her and turned her chair to face her.

“Hermione. You need to take a deep breath. Drink some tea.” 

Hermione shook off her shock and put on her attorney-with-a-mission mask. “I’m sorry, Angelina. I was just...surprised.” She sipped the tea. 

“I would be, too. I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do, please, you got it.” She patted her knee, stood up and walked to the door. “Just let me know.”

“Thanks, I will.” Once the door was shut, Hermione’s mask slipped, her hands started to shake and she barely got the cup back on the desk before she fell apart. She cast a _Muffliato_ and sobs tore out of her. _How had it gotten this bad?_

After a few minutes, the crying slowed to sniffling and she was able to take some deep, albeit stuttering, breaths. She finished the tea, put the documents back in the envelope and then stood up and brushed off her skirt. Like an automaton, she put on her jacket, grabbed her briefcase and wand and left her office. 

“Granger.” She turned around to see Draco standing in the hallway. _Oh, shit. Calm, Hermione, calm._

“Yes, Malfoy? Did you need something? I have an appointment to get to.” She tapped her foot, trying to look impatient.

“Uh, no **...** I was...uh...just...never mind. You better get to your meeting. I’ll...uh...catch you later.” Draco was taken aback by her demeanor. 

“Yeah, me too.” As she started for the floo, the phone rang at Angelina’s desk.

“Evermonde and Goldstein, may I help you?” Angelina listened to the call. All of a sudden, her eyes grew wide and she mouthed to Draco _‘They made a decision!’_ and motioned for Draco to grab Hermione before she got to the floo. “Thank you, I’ll tell her to head on over.” She hung up the phone, ran into Draco’s office, grabbed his jacket and met him halfway down the hall. 

“Thanks, Ange. You need to cancel her meeting. I’ll send a patronus once we find out.” Draco put his jacket on. 

“She didn’t have a meeting. She was just leaving the office.” Angelina tried not to let on that she knew anything. But Hermione never ‘just left the office,’ so Draco knew something was wrong.

“What Angelina, tell me.” 

“Ron was here about a half hour ago. He served her with divorce papers. She...she was blindsided.” 

“That fucker. I’ll kill him. Then I’ll _renervate_ and kill him again.” He turns to go but Angelina stops him.

“Draco, you can’t say anything. She does not want any pity. And she’ll kill me.” 

“Draco, are you coming?” Hermione peeked down the hall.

“Coming! Aargh!” Draco ran his fingers through his hair. “OK, but you have to get her to tell me. You have until tomorrow.” He looked at Angelina sternly until she nodded. He turned and walked towards the floo. 

After the green light flashed, Angelina sat down at her desk with her head in her hands. _Merlin, I have a bad feeling about this._ She picked up her phone and dialed out. “Hello, Harry Potter, please.”

__

After the decision at the Wizengamot, Hermione was accosted by the press. Draco tried to usher her to the lift as quickly as he could, but she stopped him.

“They won’t leave me alone until I tell them something. Hang on.” She turned to the crowd and raised her hands to quiet them. “Meet me in the Atrium and I will give you a statement.” She turned and stepped into the lift Draco had been holding for her. 

“Merlin! That was annoying. I mean, I’m used to it, but for some reason, I just needed to get out of there.” She leaned against the back of the lift. 

“Granger, are you ok? Angelina told me you didn’t really have an appointment. What’s going on?” Draco figured maybe the direct method of getting her to open up might work. 

Hermione’s mask slipped for a split second and he saw the look of desolation flit across her face. As soon as he blinked, the mask was back, but she had the grace to look abashed.

“Don’t tell Angelina, but I was going to go to Diagon Alley for some retail therapy until the decision came back.” She looked at him before shifting her gaze to the floor, hoping that he would buy her flimsy explanation. 

“Ah, ok. Well, now you have the rest of the day. Do you want to get a drink and celebrate?”

“Uh, no, I’m just going to head home,” she said as the doors opened. “After I get these guys off my back.” She walked out and hurried over to the area in the Atrium where press conferences were usually held. Draco followed her out, but stayed at the back of the crowd. 

Questions rang out from the crowd. _Are you satisfied with the verdict? Will you go for the full fine? Are there more Death Eaters still out there?_ Draco grimaced and backed up until he was in a doorway, half concealed from view. The last thing he needed was for them to see him and pelt him with questions about his past. They went on and on. Hermione just stood there waiting for them to quiet down.

“To answer your questions in order: yes, yes, yes.” When she stopped and it seemed like she wasn’t going to elaborate, the press collectively groaned. “What? Well, you shouldn’t have asked questions with a yes or no answer. Now, if you have a more thoughtful question, I’ll give you all the quotes you need.” One by one, most of the reporters got their answers either with a direct question or as a result of someone else getting through the noise. Draco watched her in awe. _I wonder if it’s just the case or if it’s the Weasel, but she is on fire._

After about ten minutes, she started to wind up the questions when a small voice cut through the buzz. 

“Mrs. Weasley, are you and your husband getting divorced?” 

Immediately, the proverbial pin dropped. Hermione turned white as a sheet and took a step back. The crowd froze as if they had all been _stunned._ She homed in on the reporter who asked the question and said, “Excuse me?”

“I asked, are you...” Hermione cut her off forcefully.

“What paper are you from?” Draco could tell she was stalling. He started to inch forward towards the crowd.

“ _The Examiner_. We heard...” Again Hermione silenced her with her hand and she pinned her down with a steely glare.

“No. Excuse me.” The crowd recovered their senses and it was all the security guards could do to keep them from rushing her. By that time, Draco managed to get to her, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down the hall. He found a conference room with a couple of custodians in it, taking their break.

“Out. Now.” The custodians hurriedly got up and out of there as fast as they could. He then pulled Hermione into the room, sat her down in a chair, pulled the blinds and turned off the lights.

He came over to the conference table where Hermione was sitting, shaking. “What do you need me to do? I can call someone to come get you, stay with you. Potter, maybe?” He wondered if Harry had known before Hermione. When he didn’t get a response, he took both of her hands.

“Hey...hey...look at me. Please?” He squeezed her hands and she finally looked at him. 

She was white as a sheet and looked like she was about to pass out. 

“Did what I think just happened, happen?” She braced herself for the inevitable answer.

“Yes. And if I ever find that reporter, well, let’s just say it will be a long time before she has a by-line.”

“But, how did she know?” Hermione’s voice was barely above a whisper as if speaking out loud would make it even more real.

“I don’t know, but I’ll get to the bottom of it. First, you need something to drink and then tell me what you want me to do.” Draco pulled a bottle of water from the mini-fridge that was in the corner of the room. 

“Here, drink this. I’ll be back in a minute.” He took off his jacket and placed it over her shoulders. He went to the door and opened it a crack. He could still hear noise from the Atrium and through the din he recognized Kingsley’s voice.

“Go home, everybody. There’s nothing to see here. If you don’t leave, security will usher you out and revoke your press pass.” The noise lowered to a grumble and Draco could see people starting towards the door. He saw someone walking in his direction and he started to wave him off when he realized who it was.

“What the fuck, Potter? How did you get here so fast? Don’t tell me it’s already on the wire? Bloody hell...” Harry stopped in front of him, breathing heavily and running his hands through his hair. 

“Angelina called - I came here to catch Hermione after the conference but by the time I made it, you were already getting her out of there."

“Did you know anything about this? Weasley was in her office when we got back from court. He blindsided her, Potter.” Draco eyes widened all of a sudden. “Potter, do you think…? No, even he isn’t that cruel. Is he? Could he have done this?” he said pointing towards the atrium. The look on Harry’s face told him he didn’t need an answer. 

Draco’s expression morphed from shock to murderous rage. Harry shook his head and started, “Malfoy, stop. You cannot go after him.” When Draco started to protest, Harry shut him down.

“I know. I _know,"_ Harry continued, looking at Draco meaningfully. “Let’s just focus on Hermione. She needs us, not to fight her battles or rescue her, but just to be there for her. A solid wall of support that she won’t even know is there.” 

Draco ran his hand over his face and grabbed his neck. For a second, it seemed as if he couldn’t decide if Harry was right, but then he let out a massive sigh.

“All right, Potter. But this won’t be easy. Working so closely with her, watching her go through this. It just might be what finally sends me to Azkaban. And the problem is, I wouldn’t regret it.” He gestured towards the door. Harry opened it and walked in. 

“Hermione?” Harry put a hand on her shoulder. Hermione jumped up and threw her arms around him, bursting into tears. 

After a few moments, she broke away from him and sat back down. Harry took a seat on one side and Draco sat on the other.

“What do you need me to do?” Harry was earnest. “Ginny and I are here for you 100%. Ron’s a git for springing this on you. I’m so sorry the press got wind of it.”

“I just got the papers not an hour before I came over here. I don’t understand.” She gasped and sat back in her chair. “Do you think Ron...?” Draco cut her off.

“Whether he did or he didn't, it's water under the bridge and that’s not what you need to focus on. You need to get yourself a good lawyer, someone who will hand him his ass on a platter.” As much as Draco wanted to dwell on Ron’s actions, he knew she shouldn’t focus on it. “We will take care of the Weasel.” He looked at Harry who nodded.

“I guess you’re right. Anybody know a good divorce lawyer?” Hermione wiped her eyes and set her expression resolutely. “I don’t even know where to begin looking.”

“I know one, Hermione. But you’re not gonna like it.”

“Who? If they’re cutthroat, they’re hired.”

Draco cleared his throat. “Pansy Parkinson.”

**Two days later**

Hermione was sitting in her office when her wand lit up and Angelina’s voice came through, telling her she had a visitor.

Hermione scrunched her nose and grabbed a notepad. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her hair. When she emerged from her office, Angelina stood up, but before she could say a word, a sharp voice cut through the outer office.

“Granger, you have not changed.” Hermione’s eyes landed on a tall, lithe figure in a Burberry raincoat, and Christian Louboutin heels. The dark-haired fashion statement looked over her Bvlgari sunglasses and smirked.

“Pansy Parkinson. It’s been a long time.” Hermione, for a second, felt like she was back in Fourth Year, afraid Pansy and her crew were going to hex her. She shook off the feeling and put out her hand. Pansy shook it firmly.

“I understand you have a problem you need my help with.” 

Hermione nodded. She turned to Angelina. “Ange, can you bring some tea for us into the conference room?” Pansy did a double take.

“Angelina Johnson? Is that really you? Wow, you are stunning.” Pansy’s appraisal made Angelina blush. 

“Hi Pansy. You look well, too.”

“Well, with what I make guaranteeing bastards like Ron Weasley regret their repulsive actions, I would hope so. Come on Granger, let’s talk about how we are going to make that ginger jackass pay.” They walked together down to the conference room.

"So?" Hermione asked once they were seated, shifting nervously.

Pansy's smile relaxed and she took Hermione's hand. "I'm sorry for what you're going through. Divorce is hard. I know we were never anything close to friends but — I’m glad you asked me to represent you. Now, I'm going to need you to tell me everything. It's going to be emotionally draining but I promise you - it _will_ be worth it." 

Hermione let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Thank you, Pansy. Malfoy said you were the best. Where do we start?"

Two hours later, Pansy and Hermione had a plan of action. Despite their turbulent history, they discovered similar views due to their having climbed the ladder of a still male-dominated field. The fine line they walked between being assertive and coming off too aggressive was something they both bonded over. 

“So there I was, ready to question this cheating excuse for a husband, you know, really take him down and his attorney has the gall to object that I’m badgering the guy! Me! He knew I was going to ask him to explain his bank account in Switzerland and his villa in Naples, neither of which his wife knew about. He was determined to persuade the judge I was making his client look like Machiavelli, when really, I just wanted him to see the guy as Henry VIII! Honestly, when you get two or more men in a room together, their collective IQ goes down to about 20.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. She had been in similar situations as well. Overall, she felt pretty confident Pansy would make Ron pay. Although deep down, she didn’t want to destroy him. She knew he had struggled, and in some small way she felt responsible. 

“Pansy, I can’t begin to explain how grateful I am that you are helping me. I don’t want to be horrible to him. I just want this to be over so I can move on.”

“Well, how do you suggest we do that? He is suing you for divorce, remember? Abandonment and irreconcilable differences. Irreconcilable is what you use for a dissolution when you don’t like the fact that he leaves his socks everywhere and forgets your birthday.. But abandonment? That is rich. In order to fight this you have to hit back and hit hard. His alcoholism has kept you from having a fulfilling marriage. He made achieving your goals a struggle, while continuing to live his best life, albeit in a joke shop.” She couldn’t hide a snicker at that thought. “You have told me how he belittled your efforts; he made you feel guilty because you weren’t attending the Molly Weasley School of Household Management. He is a devious, vengeful prick and the sooner you wrap your bushy head around that fact, the better off you’ll be.

“Do not for a moment forget that he is suing _you_ for spousal support. He is using your income, the very income that he didn’t want you making, and saying he deserves a portion of it. If leaking the divorce filing to the papers wasn’t bad enough, this simply takes the cake.”

Hermione felt completely defeated. She knew Pansy was right and would be successful. She hated feeling like she was burning bridges; what would the rest of the Weasleys say? They had been family to her as well, but she didn’t expect them to cut Ron off and support her instead. 

“Ok, I get it. I can’t afford to be charitable.” She started to gather up her notes and Pansy followed suit.

“Granger, when this is over, you and I will go out and celebrate. I promise you, you won’t regret this. Now, I have to be at a custody hearing to decide who gets the Great Dane and who gets the Chihuahua. The weary never get a chance to rest. Or is that the wicked?” Pansy shrugged and winked at Hermione. “I never can remember.”

When they reached the floo, Hermione turned to Pansy and put out her hand. Pansy took her hand and pulled her into a hug. She whispered in her ear, “You got this, Granger. _We_ got this.” She threw some powder over her head and said “Ministry.” After she disappeared, Hermione stared at the empty floo in astonishment. 

**Three weeks later**

Pansy owled Hermione that she needed to see her right away. As soon as she stepped out of the floo, Hermione could tell something was wrong. 

“Granger, you’re soon-to-be ex is a bigger fool than I thought he was.” She pulled some pictures from her briefcase and laid them out on the table. They were grainy shots of what was obviously Ron holding hands with another woman; one of him kissing her at an Apparation point; and a final one of him helping the same but now very pregnant woman into a cab and climbing in after her. 

Hermione looked at the pictures in disbelief. She immediately calculated how far along the woman was and slumped in her chair. 

“So this has been going on for at least six months,” she said, her voice flat, unable to process precisely what she was feeling at the moment. “He always did like thin girls. Lavender was a stick and even after we were married, he used to compare me to her and wonder if I would be big as a house when I was pregnant.”

“She’s single and they hardly ever go anywhere except her flat. These just happened to be taken by my PI a few weeks ago. Right after he filed for divorce.” 

“So he was with someone else even before he got sober. He had one foot out the door the whole time.” She picked up one of the pictures and ran her finger over the outline of the woman’s stomach.

“Well, maybe one foot in another door. I don’t think he intended to divorce you until after he got sober. All of my inquiries have indicated that he was expecting you to come to him one day and say you wanted to get pregnant. I think he would have dropped her if you had given him any hope. Basically, he wanted to have his dinner and dessert at the same time.”

“You mean, have his cake and eat it too.” In spite of everything, Hermione chuckled.

“Yeah, whatever. You Muggles and your sayings. Anyway, now he really has a reason to get as much money as possible out of you. And he doesn’t feel he has to hide it anymore.” Pansy saw the look of embarrassment on Hermione’s face. “But that’s not going to happen. He just dug himself into a hole that he will not get out of.” 

“It doesn’t matter. Even if he doesn’t get money from me, his family will support him lock, stock and barrel.” At Pansy’s puzzled glance, she amended, “They will welcome him with open arms because he’s about to give them a grandchild. It doesn’t really matter who the mother is.”

“Don’t go there, Granger. I know, because Merlin knows I had to witness it for six years, that he did love you at one time. It was truly disgusting.” Pansy wrinkled her nose. “Alcohol messes with your mind and makes you believe you need things you didn’t think you did and makes you need them sooner. That’s what happened here.”

“Well, I guess we really just wanted different things. But no one ever talks about it when you’re 18 years old and you’ve almost lost your life in a war you were forced to fight in. You’re just glad you’re alive. But, boy could we have all used some therapy.” 

“Therapy?” 

“Yeah, it’s what Muggles call getting together with a professional and talking about your feelings.”

“A professional? Like any professional? Business man, teacher, lawyer? That kind of professional?” Pansy was once again perplexed.

Hermione laughed. “No, I mean someone who is a good listener. A specialist.”

“Well, my mother was a good listener, but she’s no specialist and no way in hell would I talk to her about my feelings.” She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.

Hermione tried to keep a straight face and failed. “This person is like a...” she searched for the right word...“mind healer.” She hoped Pansy would at least understand that. 

Realization finally dawned. “Could you really see the wizarding community go for therapy? I mean Purebloods? They would just as soon _Stupefy_ themselves as tell someone their feelings. Nope, I don’t see it happening in the near future. We’ll just have to get our “therapy” some other way. That’s what potions are for.”

“Pansy, when you came into this office, I was dreading it. But even though what you told me was dreadful, just talking to you right now has been therapy.” Hermione gathered up the pictures and handed them back to her.

“I’ll add that to my business card. ‘Pansy Parkinson, Barrister-at-Law and Therapist-at-Large.’ Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” Pansy laughed. 

As they walked to the floo, Pansy turned towards Hermione. “In all seriousness, Hermione, I’m glad you are taking this as well as you are. I’ve had other clients alternate between contemplating suicide and taking out a contract on their spouses. If I have helped you come to terms with this somehow, it was my honor. You deserve better than a two-timing, mama’s boy.” She hugged her goodbye and stepped into the floo.

**Later that night**

P: BTW, don’t date anyone.

H: Like I have time.

P: I’m just saying. Revenge can be sweet…

H: IKR. But I won’t jeopardize it.

P: When this is over, I’ll set you up on my dating app

H: A dating app? What’s that?

P: You don’t know what a dating app is?

H: You forget, I’ve been married since the last century.

P: Oh right. Well, I’ll find the right one for you. TTFN

H: You’re learning!

P: Don’t hold your breath. Wait, what?

H: Using Muggle phrases! TTFN

P: That’s a phrase? I just thought it was new way to sign off

H: Well, it is but it does mean something. Ta Ta For Now. It’s Tigger’s way of saying goodbye.

P: Tiger? Why would a tiger say that? 

H: NVM

P: ???

Hermione sighed. _Witches and Wizards. You can’t live with them and you can’t… nope don’t go there. You don’t want to be a Pansy statistic._

**Two days later**

“Malfoy, do you have that werewolf case we talked about?” Hermione poked her head inside his office.

“Right here.” Draco pulled a file off his credenza and held it out to her. “I just finished getting the statements from the witnesses. You can see the discrepancies pretty easily.”

She took it and looked at him, expectantly. 

“Everyone who was there that night saw the same thing, except two people: the plaintiff and the defendant.”

“And who backed up who?” 

“They back up each other,” Draco said, waiting for the inevitable ‘ _shit_ ’ that was going to come out of her mouth. But nothing came. Hermione was still holding the file but she was looking at him like she had just seen a hippogriff for the first time.

“Granger? Yoo hoo! Are you in there?” Draco waved his free hand in front of her eyes.

“What? Oh, right. Well, that’s something isn’t it?" Hermione cleared her throat and pulled the file out of his hand. She started for the door when Draco grabbed her arm.

“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” He looked at her, a little worried. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have a spot somewhere?” He starts looking at his tie, searching for a stain.

“Are you wearing a suit, Malfoy? No robes today?” She looked at him with a twinkle in her eye, waiting for an answer.

“What, this?” Draco looked a little flustered. “Oh no, this isn’t anything. The house elf...she...well, she told me I looked good in one.” He rubbed his hand over his face and through his hair, his signature ‘I’ve been caught in a lie that I don’t know how to get out of’ move. 

Hermione’s eyes widened before she let out a peal of laughter. Draco turned every shade of red at his admission.

“Malfoy, I never thought I’d see the day when you would care what anyone thought about what you wore, let alone listen to a house elf! Times are changing, Have I finally managed to drag your sorry arse into the 21st century?” She moved towards the door, not waiting for an answer. She turned to look at him once again on her way out. “Looks good on you.”

Draco just stood with his mouth wide open. When Angelina walked in with his lunch delivery, she said, “Jeez, Malfoy, you’d think no one had ever complimented you before. Shut your mouth before you forget how.” She plopped his food on his desk and left.

Hermione chuckled to herself all the way back to her office. Once there, she sat down and opened the file, still shaking her head in disbelief. _House elf, my arse. He’s got a date, or I’m Minerva McGonagall._

She had just finished her lunch and was vanishing the crumbs when there was a knock at her door. Angelina peeked in.

“Hermione, uh, Ron’s out here. He says he needs to see you. I tried to tell him he needed to make an appointment, considering, but he just said he was still your husband and he could see you anytime he wanted.”

“No, that’s fine. He can come in.” _This cannot be good._

Ron didn’t wait that long. He pulled the door away from Angelina and stomped to her desk.

“Hermione, what the fuck?”

“Nice to see you too, Ron.” She continued to straighten up her desk, practically ignoring him.

“Pull back that bitch solicitor of yours! Parkinson is completely out of line! I won’t have her hounding Heather!” He was almost as red as his hair.

“What did you just say? Did I just hear you say the name of your baby mama? Heather, is it? Hmmm...what is she all of 18?” Hermione was bristling.

“She is not my baby mama! She is the mother of my child. Not that you would ever know what that’s like.” He stood over her desk, glowering.

“Well, I didn’t need a child, Ronald. I had you.” She could go as low as he could.

“You are a piece of work, you know that? I don’t know what I ever saw in you. I see now why alcohol became a necessity. You drove me to it. You did. You couldn’t handle me so you made my life such a living hell I had to drink just to get through the day. Just ask anyone! They’ll tell you!”

“Ron, I am _not_ talking to you when you’re like this...” Hermione started.

“I don’t want to talk to you at all. I just need you to get your dog off my arse. Or the press might find something more to write like “Golden Girl, Hermione fucking Granger loses husband to better woman.” He stormed out, leaving Hermione dumbstruck.

When Ron got to the floo, two pale hands grabbed the front of his jacket and pushed him up against the wall. 

“Malfoy, come on. What did I do to you? Get your hands off me.” Ron tried to push Draco away, to no avail.

“If I ever hear you say anything like that again, I will end you, Weasley. Do you hear me? End. You.” He let Ron go and brushed himself off, looking at Ron like he was a piece of centaur dung on his shoe. Ron opened his mouth but Draco cut him off.

“You are a poor excuse for a human being. You have no respect for women. You have no respect for the wizarding world in general. I don’t ever want to see your face around here again. You leave Granger, yes, I said _Granger_ , alone.” Draco pushed Ron to the floo and threw floo powder at him and yelled “the Burrow” as loudly as possible. A green flash later and he was gone.

Draco brushed off his hands and headed back down the hallway. He peeked into Hermione’s office and immediately yelled for Angelina to get him some water.

Hermione was having a full blown panic attack. It started when Ron mentioned the press. Up until then, she had been hoping that he wasn’t the one who leaked the news, but this confirmed everything. She flushed and started shaking. She sat down at her desk and put her hands on top. She tried to count to 10, but got lost around 3. Her vision started to get black around the edges and she realized she was holding her breath, but couldn’t remember how to stop. Draco looked in and barely caught her before she passed out.

“Granger! Hermione!” He pulled her out of the chair and they fell to the floor. He pulled her into his lap and undid the first couple of buttons on her blouse. “Breathe! You gotta breathe.” 

It was as if she had been stunned or was under the _Petrificus Totalus._ She couldn’t move. Draco slapped her face twice and suddenly she sputtered and gasping for air. She started looking around wildly, as if expecting something.

“Hermione, look at me. He’s gone. You’re safe. You need to breathe. Look. At. Me.” He shook her head a little and she stopped and looked at him. “Breathe with me. In - one, two. Out - one, two. In - one, two. Good girl, out - one, two. That’s it. Let’s count to three.” He kept repeating it with her until her breathing slowed and the light came back to her eyes. 

Even after she was breathing again, he still talked to her softly, brushed her hair back from her face and took the water and cloth from Angelina and started to gently wipe her cheeks. 

“Oh my God, I’m so hot. That feels...so good.” All of a sudden she saw Draco and how they were sitting and she immediately tried to get up. “Draco, I’m so sorry...” He put his hand up to stop her.

“Don’t ever apologize for this. It sucks and it’s scary, I know. But it’s not your fault. It’s his.” Draco tried to keep the malice out of his voice.

“You know? Have you had them, too?” Draco nodded. “When? I didn’t think anything got to you.” Hermione started to sit up and Draco helped her off his lap. They both leaned against the wall behind her desk.

“When Voldemort was living at the Manor. Then, and after the war. Nightmares, too.” Hermione looked at him with a new appreciation.

“I haven’t had a nightmare in about a year, and it’s been quite a few since a full blown panic attack.” She felt a little embarrassed.

“It’s been a few years for me, too. I still go to bed at night wondering if it will happen and hoping it doesn’t.” Draco sighed. “What happened with him? If you don’t want to tell me, that’s ok. I can fill in the blanks.”

Hermione cleared her throat. “Well, basically he admitted that he leaked the news to the press. And threatened worse if I didn’t pull Pansy away from him.”

“I can’t wait to hear how Pansy feels about that.” Draco shook his head.

“That’s not even the best part. I already knew this, but he has a pregnant girlfriend. He thinks Pansy is harassing her.”

Draco was speechless. And outraged. “I’m glad I didn’t know that before I threw him on the floo.”

“You didn’t! What did you say to him?” Hermione started to freak out.

“Hey, it’s ok. I didn’t hurt him or anything. I just told him if he ever said anything like that again I would...end him. He shuddered with pent up anger. “Pansy can’t get you out of that marriage fast enough.”

Once Hermione had calmed back down, Draco got up and pulled her up as well. He held her hand until she stabilized and pulled her into a hug.

“Thanks, Draco. You really helped me out.” She pulled back and looked up at him. “We should swap panic attack stories and compare the most embarrassing places we’ve had them.” He looked at her like she was an alien. “What? If you can’t laugh about it, what’s the point?” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” After a pause he said, “Will you be ok? I mean, I know you’re going to be ok, I just..." he trailed off, embarrassed, and pulled away from her. 

“Yes, Malfoy. I’m going to be fine. Just, thanks.” 

**Six weeks later**

Pansy and Hermione celebrated her divorce at the only Muggle bar Pansy wouldn’t be caught dead in. Hermione wanted to avoid any and all press, family, friends, anyone who would judge her, pity her or look at her differently now that she was newly single.

Over appletinis and appetizers, Pansy set up an online profile for Hermione on _Wizards, Witches, Anything that Moves_ or WWAM for short. 

“Now, I know you have a type, so this is where you put in what you’re looking for. Let’s see: Age: Well, he should at least be alive; Height, Weight, etc. etc...oh here we go. Characteristics: Must have a hero-complex; be needy and spoiled, hate brooms, loves trivia, crosswords, said no one ever.” Hermione put up a little protest, but giggled at all of it.

“This seems so fake. How do I even know if they’re telling the truth?”

“Ah, Hermione Granger found something she can’t look up in a book. How to understand a man.” Pansy snorted into her drink.

“Seriously, Pansy! How do I know?”

“Well, you just do. And sometimes you don’t. It’s an adventure - you’re good at having those, aren’t you? Here, you’ve got some inquiries already. Let me look.” She grabbed the phone from Hermione and started scrolling, saying “yes”, “no,” “maybe”, “not in a million years”, “ugh, no way.” “Here you go, these might be interesting.”

Hermione looked at her phone. “All these? What about the ones you didn’t like?” 

“Those? Well, let’s just say I pre-screened them for you.” Pansy had that “I’ll never tell” look in her eye.

Hermione looked up at Pansy for a split second and then bowed down to her. “All hail, the great Parkinson, goddess of matches made in heaven, or Valhalla, or...wherever, I don’t know.” She burst out laughing. Her phone dinged and she went back to it.

“Oh Pansy, this one is a 95% match! Maybe I should...” Before she finished, Pansy had the phone back in her hands again. Her eyes widened when she opened up the information. Then she swiped left before Hermione could get the phone back.

“Pansy! What did you do that for? That might have been the one!” Hermione pouted.

“Nah, 95% percent match doesn’t mean anything. My ex-fiance and I had a 95 % match - after we broke up. Plus, you’ve got a nice assortment to start with.”

“So, how do I start?” 

“Well, you could message them, maybe text them for a while. Knowing you like I do, of course, I would chat with them before meeting them. Then meet them during the day in a crowded place, first. Or have someone with you who can extricate you if you need to leave.”

“What, like a wing man?” When Pansy looked at Hermione in confusion, she explained further. “Someone who has your back, you know, like a friend.”

“Ohhh, I thought...oh never mind what I thought.” Pansy laughed. 

Hermione thought for a minute and then realization dawned. “I keep forgetting you are so literal! She giggled.

“Anyway.” Pansy was determined to get Hermione back on topic. “As I was saying, you’ll meet a ton of losers, but you might also meet The One. You know what they say, don’t you?”

“No, what?” Hermione is curious.

“You have to kiss a lot of snakes before you find your toad.”

“Pansy, you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Eww, why would I want to kiss a frog? Frogs are disgusting.” Pansy winked at Hermione and ordered another drink.

**Two months later**

“We have to celebrate. That case took years off my life, Hermione. I have never had to work a case where the plaintiff and the defendant were in on it together.” Draco and Hermione were leaving the Ministry having won the werewolf case they had been working on. “We are going to celebrate and you are coming with me. No ifs, ands or buts. Yes, I know I just used a Muggle idiom. Just seeing if you were listening.” 

Hermione looked at him coyly. “What me? Not listening? I always listen; you just don’t always appear to be saying anything.” She elbowed him in the ribs. “Oh, all right I’ll go, but just so you don’t get lost in Muggle London and end up in Southwark. And, you are buying.”

They dropped their files at the office, sharing the good news with Angelina before making their way to Muggle London. Once there, Hermione hailed a cab and gave the driver the name of the same bar she and Pansy had been to after her divorce was finalized.

They were there well before Happy Hour, so they found a table by the window. After ordering drinks, they sat in awkward silence. 

“That judge was...”

“I’ve been dating...”

“Okayyyy, you obviously have the more interesting story. You first.” Draco leaned back and crossed his arms.

“Well, Pansy showed me this dating app and got me started and I’ve chatted, done background checks on the ones I’m sort of interested in, and actually met a few of them.”

Draco snorted. “Of course you did a background check. And?”

Their drinks appeared and Draco immediately downed his whiskey.

“Well, I only made it through one date.”

“With all of them?”

“All of them. I guess marrying the first friend I ever made has forced me to think about taking my time.”

“Not all of them are like Ron.” He motioned for her to give him her phone. “Let me take a look.”

“What? No! Well, all right, I guess if anyone knows my type it’s probably you.” Hermione pulled up the app and handed him her phone.

Draco flips through her “yeses” and asks her about each one of them.

“GG332?”

“Illiterate.”

“OK then, NL531?”

“Nerdier than me.”

“BZ789.”

“Italian. He told me he was French. I can’t do Italian.”

“TN1023.”

“Needed a ride.” 

“AG548.”

“Asked me if I was into ‘praise kink’. I said I might be, but then he ruined it when he said we’d have to be quiet because he still lived with his mother.”

“MC411”

“Told me he was probably going to die young.”

“VC598.”

“Dirt under his nails. What? He said he was a healer!”

“TB444.”

“Allergies.”

“GW490.”

“Red hair. I’m never dating a ginger again.”

Draco sighed. “Well, little Miss Picky, you may have just become the first person to not find a successful match. Isn’t there a galleon-back guarantee?”

“Well, I haven’t given up yet.”

“Wait, I accidentally pulled up your rejects. This one, LM065, he was a 95% match and you swiped left? Maybe since you obviously don’t do well with the swipe rights, you should try the swipe lefts.” He handed her back her phone.

“Oh, that was Pansy. She said 95% wasn’t true. I guess she and her ex-fiancé were 95% match after they broke up and both went on the app.” Hermione laughed at the thought. “Can you imagine if I ended up being a 95% match with Ron?” 

“Don’t even think it, Granger. But seriously, what can it hurt?”

“I’ll think about it. Meanwhile, should we order some appetizers? I’m starving.” 

Three hours and several drinks later, Hermione looked at her watch. She saw Draco’s reaction and said, “We’re in Muggle London, remember? Can’t just pull out my wand. Oh, wow, it’s about to get really crowded. Maybe we should go. Want to walk for a little bit? I don’t think either of us is in any condition to Apparate.”

“Sure. I have nothing but a house-elf to go home to. Let’s finish up these appetizers —” he frowned at the plate “— you’ve hardly eaten anything.” 

“I don’t know why we ordered so much. When Ron and I went out, he only let me get a salad. Said he didn’t want me fat before I got pregnant. He was always afraid I would never lose the baby weight. He was probably right.” 

“Do you hear yourself? You do realize that you are no longer married to that oaf nor do you have to keep to impossible standards. You are so much more than your shape, I’ll have you know.” Draco was mystified that she felt that way. 

Hermione blushed. “I know, I know. It’s hard to shake that mentality though, when you hear it almost every day for ten years. I’m trying. Pansy said that good guys love a woman with a healthy appetite.” She took the last potato skin, slathered it with sour cream and popped it in her mouth. “There, happy now?” 

“I’ll be happy if you can keep from showering me with bacon.” Draco laughed. 

He got up and helped Hermione to her feet. She wobbled a little, but insisted she was fine. 

“I have shoes I can change into, just give me a minute to use the loo.” She disappeared into the bowels of the restaurant. Ten minutes later she reappeared about three inches shorter and wearing trainers. 

“Ready? Wow, you’re really tall!” She shielded her eyes jokingly to look up at him. 

Draco grabbed her arm and with a smirk said, “OK, cheeky swot, let’s go.” They made their way to a riverside park to watch the sunset. 

“So, Malfoy, what kind of women do you date?” Hermione looked up at him shyly. In all the years they had worked together, he never talked about his personal life. She didn’t think there was a girlfriend, so she figured he must have gone out with tons of eligible witches.

“Well, trying to rebuild my family’s reputation put a little dent in my social life. I really haven’t ‘dated’ per se.” 

“Well, what do you think you would like in a woman?” She knew she was pushing, but she was curious.

“Hmmm. A witch, first and foremost. And before you say anything, Granger, by that I mean any witch, Muggleborn, Half-blood, Pure-blood. I just don’t think I could get along with a Muggle. Someone who is well-read. Who feels at ease in both worlds. A woman who isn’t afraid to speak her mind. Likes long walks on the beach, nights by the fire, reads poetry….” he drifted off as Hermione realized he was teasing her. “Oh and someone who doesn’t mind the occasional epithet thrown at her date as they walk down the street.” 

“People don’t still do that, do they?” Hermione was genuinely alarmed. 

“Not really, anymore. Just the occasional stare.” They were leaning against the railing directly above the river. They stopped to admire the view.

Hermione cleared her throat and turned to him. “Draco, I need to tell you something.” They were facing each other; she had her back to the river and he was leaning over the railing. He looked at her, waiting. 

“I, uh...well, you see...those dates...” she faltered. Before she could get another word out, he lifted her chin, bent down and kissed her. It was a soft kiss, but tentative. For a moment, Hermione’s eyes widened and she froze. When she realized he was actually kissing her and not going to back away in embarrassment, she closed her eyes, relaxed and kissed him back.

“I’ve waited a long time to be able to do that,” he said softly, once they pulled apart. 

“How...how long?” She hadn’t moved since they started.

“About 10 years.” He looked down at her, his eyes soft but still questioning. “I can see you thinking, so I’ll make it easy for you. The Yule Ball.”

Hermione was thunderstruck. She had absolutely no idea. “Why didn’t you...”

“Say something? And throw away centuries of ridiculous blood purity crap?” He smirked. “I couldn’t, not then. And when I finally thought maybe I could, it was the end of the battle and I saw you kissing the Weasel. I knew then I wouldn’t ever have a chance.” 

“Oh, Draco. All this time...but why did you agree to work with me? How did we become friends?” She was pretty sure she knew the answer but wanted to hear it from him.

“Because at least I would get to see you every day, talk and argue with you, and watch you grow into the utterly fantastic lawyer you have become.” 

“Well, you hid it very well.” Hermione was beginning to doubt her usually excellent powers of observation.

“That’s one thing I know how to do very well. I had plenty of experience pushing down any feelings just so Voldemort wouldn’t latch on to them and use them against me. It really was easy.”

While he was explaining, Hermione put her arms around his neck. He barely finished speaking before she kissed him. This was not a soft, tentative kiss. This was a ‘what took you so long?’ kiss. A ‘we have a lot of lost time to make up for’ kiss. She held him tightly as he put his arms around her and they both deepened the kiss at the same time. His hands were splayed on her back, trying to cover every inch and she was running her hands through his hair, hoping it felt like she had always imagined. It did. When they finally broke apart, it was her turn.

“I think I had feelings for you, too. Maybe not as far back as fourth year, but at least by sixth year. I was so determined that you didn’t have the Dark Mark and that Harry was just overly obsessed with you just because you were, well, _you_. I really didn’t want to believe it, but I didn’t know why. When he hit you with the _Sectumsempra_ I was so scared you were going to die, truly. Even after Snape saved you. I still could not reconcile being Muggleborn and being attracted to a Death Eater, so I just put it out of my head.” Before she could continue, Draco stopped her.

“Hermione, we don’t have to do this now.” Kiss on the cheek. “There’s plenty of time to reminisce.” Kiss on the other cheek. “Let’s go home.” Kiss on the forehead. “I don’t think we’ll Splinch, do you?” he whispered in her ear. A bit of a nip on the lobe. 

Hermione shuddered with the whisper and her knees went weak with the tug on her ear lobe. 

“No, I don’t think we will. What I wouldn’t give for a portkey right now.” She took his hand, kissed his palm and clasped it in hers. “Let’s go then.”

**Hours later**

It was close to midnight. Clothes were strewn everywhere, beginning at the floo with their coats, into the living room where his belt and her shoes landed, up the stairs a trail of robes, more shoes, jumpers, and shirts until finally in the bedroom landed trousers, skirt and underthings. On the bed were Draco and Hermione, a tangle of limbs and sheets, in that hazy afterglow that was a long-awaited, never thought would happen, meeting of minds and bodies.

“Draco?” She lifted her head off his chest to look at him.

“Mmmmm... no questions. I don’t want to think right now.” He opened one eye and sighed. “You’re going to implode if you don’t ask this right now, am I right?”

“I know you were LM065.” 

He held his breath. 

“You want to know how?”

He let out the breath. “Do I have a choice?”

“You gave the exact same list of what you wanted in a woman, when I asked you. Verbatim. Well, except for the epithet on the street part.” 

“Did I? This LM065 and I must have a lot in common.” 

“Plus, the look on Pansy’s face when she pulled you up, you should have seen her. _She_ swiped left on you, not me.” 

“That little... wait 'til I get my hands on her,” Draco growled. “She accused me of liking you in Fourth Year. Maybe she just never got over it.”

“No, I think she had a legitimate reason. She knew my history. I’d only ever been with one person. She was determined to set up that app so that I would go out and test the waters. I think she wanted to make sure that I knew what I wanted before I matched up with you for both our sakes. Because she knew that I would stop with you and, while that may have been the endgame, she wanted me to realize that I was in control and the arbiter of my destiny. 

“I’ve spent my entire life controlled by events, and people and...things. Magic was life changing, but it created a new set of controls with Hogwarts, and Harry and Voldemort. I got so swept up in being needed, and needing to be appreciated, that I forgot what I really wanted for myself. It was a small push, but her pushing me out of my comfort zone may have been the most important lesson I’ve ever learned. I’m all I ever needed.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. 

They lay there in the silence, each digesting what had just been said. 

“Now, _want_...that’s an entirely different matter.” Hermione sat up, straddled Draco and ran her hands through his hair before cupping the back of his neck. “I want you, Draco Malfoy. You are all I will ever want.” She kissed him until her phone dinged. 

“What are you doing?” Draco whined. “You can’t just stop there...” He stopped and looked at her phone screen. “You didn’t!” 

“Yes, I did.” On the screen was a picture of him sleeping. In his bed. Two hours ago. The caption read “LM065.” The reply was from “Princess Pansy.” 

“Yay!” Heart emoji. Another ding.

“Tell the Prince of Darkness I said ‘hi.’” Snake emoji. Before she could reply, the phone was snatched out of her hand and tossed on a chair way across the room. 

“That’s enough of that. No. More. Interruptions. Period.” He flipped Hermione on to her back and looked at her sternly. She looked up at him innocently.

“You know when you were helping me with my panic attack that day? Well, when I was trying to slow down my breathing, you said ‘Good girl.’ Do you remember that?”

“Well, yes, but I...” She put her finger on his mouth to shush him.

“When I went back through everything that happened, it sent a thrill up my spine. I didn’t think about it then, but when that date mentioned ‘praise kink?’ I went straight back to that day. Was that awful of me?” Hermione looked anywhere but at Draco.

Draco lifted her chin and said, “Look at me, Granger.” She could feel the heat spread through her body as she focused on him, embarrassed but hopeful. “If it thrilled you, it isn’t awful. Quite the opposite, in fact.” He leaned down and kissed her between her neck and shoulder. She shivered.

“Did you like that?” When she nodded, he moved to whisper in her ear. “Good girl.” 


End file.
